Zen and Reconciliation
by Nefertiri's Handmaiden
Summary: Richard doesn't know it, but Lois has been having panic attacks. Lois and Superman as they try to make their way back to something like they were before - only different. Chap. 7 - Serenity. COMPLETE.
1. Part I, Chapter 1: Hurricane Lane

Zen and Reconciliation

Nefertiri's Handmaiden

Disclaimer - I don't own Superman. If I did, I'd have played Lois Lane in "Superman Returns." Hold me, Brandon Routh.

Summary: Richard doesn't know it, but Lois has been having panic attacks.

Note: The first chapter in a muti-parted story following Lois and Superman's return to something like what they were before.

Note the Second: Thanks to JJ the elusive for kicking me back into gear to harness my muse and actually upload something.

-S-

Part I: Confessions of a Self-Centered Ace Reporter

Chapter 1: Hurricane Lane

-S-

Richard doesn't know it, but Lois has been having panic attacks. She's been having them since she realized Superman was gone.

They start with nightmares. Horrible, horrible nightmares where she is hanging from that helicopter again, or on an elevator at the Eiffel Tower, or one of the other hundred scenarios where he's saved her. Nightmares where she is screaming for him. Screaming, screaming, screaming… and he never comes.

By the time she takes Richard to her bed for the first time, only a few weeks after Superman disappears, the nightmares have dissipated. They are replaced with waking up in a cold sweat, terrified for reasons she can't explain. She flees the bed to the bathroom at times like these, where she sits on the toilet seat and waits for the feeling to pass. Richard rarely wakes during these episodes. When he does, he buys the 'I had to go' excuse easily.

She has them at work once in a while, a sudden pressure on her chest so strong she can't breathe for a few seconds. She rushes to the bathroom on these occasions. For a while no one thinks anything of it because she is pregnant. But even after Jason is born and the pregnancy hormones wear off Richard does not notice.

Though she is mostly relieved Richard doesn't know, she can't help but resent him a little bit for it. He should notice. He should know that something is wrong.

Superman would have known.

It is unfair to compare them, she knows. Richard will never be Superman but he is, deep down, a truly good man. He's not a hero. He's not a god. But he is a truly good man. For that, she really does love him.

--

The panic attacks do not ease after Superman returns. She does not know why. They should stop now that he is around again. Still, every few weeks, the panic sets in so deep she can't breathe. She wonders if maybe it has to do with Jason's parentage and the how the future is now so uncertain. She does her best to ignore them.

Still, Richard does not notice.

--

She has one at work. It is a Thursday. The newsroom is as loud and busy as ever and no one notices how Lois's breathing starts to hitch, her heart starts to pound, and her face goes pale. She can feel the room expanding indefinitely, like the laws of the universe have ceased to exist.

She rises to her feet, wobbles slightly. She barely remembers to grab her purse - she knows she'll need to it fix her make-up after the panic passes. Taking a deep breath, she starts the journey to the ladies' room. It feels so far away. She forces herself to maintain control. She will not show this weakness to the world. Not Lois Lane.

She does not notice Clark notice her rise. She does not notice Clark notice her heartbeat speeding or her uneven breath. She does not notice that Clark alone notices that something is wrong.

He stands and follows her toward the restroom.

--

She sits on the floor in the stall farthest from the door. In the calm quiet she can take deep breaths and make the panic dissipate. Soon, she will return to her desk soon as though nothing had happened and continue with her day. Richard will not even notice her absence. No one will notice. She will be Lois Lane, as invincible as ever.

Then there is an knock on the ladies' room door. A second passes and she says nothing. Then, awkwardly, "Lois?"

_Oh. My. God. Is that… Clark?_

She does not answer. Maybe he will go away.

She shouldn't hope for such a thing. It is Clark. "Lois, are you alright?" Again, she doesn't answer. Then, to her supreme shock, Clark opens the restroom door and comes right in. She sees his Cole Haan Oxfords from under the white stall door.

_Seriously?_

He must spot her shoes because he heads straight towards her. He stands next to her stall and asks, "Lois? Are you sick? Do you need a glass of water? Should I call Richard?"

Her heartbeat starts to speed again and her breath quickens. No one can see her like this. No one. No one. "Go away."

Then Clark does something quite out of character. He stands up to her. "No."

"Clark-"

More insistently, "No. I'm not going to just leave you here when you're not all right."

She's almost hysterical at this point. "Clark, I'm _fine_."

"No. No, you're not. Tell me what's wrong so I can help you."

Somehow, she gets to her feet, fully intending to tell him off and throw him out of the restroom. Her legs feel wobbly underneath her and it's tough to balance on her three-inch designer heels. She struggles with the catch on the door for a second, which is stupid because it's just one where she needs to pull back. She pulled the door open and there's Clark, standing there and looking worried. He knows something is wrong.

She falls into his arms and starts sobbing. At first Clark tenses. This is clearly not what he expected to happen - Hell, it's not what she expected to happen. Then he wraps his arms around her and holds her as she cries. He seems a little uncomfortable but he rubs her back soothingly and, to her surprise, he makes her feel much better.

After a little while her tears dissolve into hiccups. She pulls away once she has control again. She can't make herself meet his eyes, instead choosing to hurry over to the mirror to splash a little water on her face and start to shakily re-apply mascara.

He watches her silently for a moment. Then, hesitantly, he speaks. His voice sounds different than usual. "Lois, you need to tell me what's wrong."

He's so sincere and so concerned that she can't brush him off again. She turns away from the mirror, eyes half made-up and nose still red. When she turns to face him, she's shocked to see him looking right into her eyes, something he rarely does. She is struck by how intense he looks. No one has ever looked at her that way.

Well... maybe one other.

She cannot lie to him. Not when he's looking at her like that. "I don't know."

He raises an eyebrow. It doesn't seem like a challenge to her statement, though, merely a thoughtful gesture to let her know he's not done yet. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since-" she hesitates and then takes a deep breath and continues. "Since Superman left. Five years ago."

The rush of emotions across his face is so varied and swift she can't catch them all. She thinks for a second she sees… guilt? Then he is intense again.

"You've been crying in the bathroom by yourself periodically over the last five years?" It should make her feel stupid to hear him say it like that but it doesn't. He's just stating a fact for confirmation. He doesn't say it like he's judging her. But then, Clark's never been anything less than completely good to her, has he? She nods. "And Richard?" Clark asks, and this time there is a little edge in his voice.

"He doesn't know. He never knew. He _can't_ know," she says. She doesn't feel ashamed. Not now. Not with Clark looking at her like that, so honestly.

This time, the rush of emotion is more clear to her. It is a surge of anger and disgust. Then, once again, it is gone. He nods like he gets it, which he probably does, the way he knows her. He takes a step closer. Gently, he places one big, warm, comforting hand against her cheek. He looks deep into her eyes. "The next time you need me, I'll be here. I'm always here, Lois."

She blinks back fresh tears, but these ones are for a different reason than the panic - whatever reason that is. These tears are because he's so sweet. She leans in, kisses him lightly on the cheek. When she pulls back, she's surprised to see that he's not blushing. He's just looking at her in this intense way, a hint of a smile on his face. Who is this new Clark in front of her?

Then he pulls away. "Take however long you need. I'll cover for you, okay?"

She nods. "Thank you, Clark."

He just smiles and exits the ladies' room.

Six minutes later she reenters the bullpen, face fresh and makeup touched up. On her desk sit a fresh cup of coffee and a cinnamon raisin bagel liberally spread with cream cheese. She looks over at Clark's desk. He's not looking back, not giving anything away.

For the life of her, she can't figure out why she's not ashamed that he's seen her in such a state.


	2. Part I, Chapter 2: The Man of Steel

Zen and Reconciliation

Nefertiri's Handmaiden

Disclaimer: This was written on a used couch in a crappy condo. If I owned Superman, it would have been written in a very nice mansion.

Summary: There is only one thing to do when the guilt becomes too much. Clark goes home to Smallville.

Note: Chapter 2 of Part I of a multi-parted story following Lois and Clark making their way back to something like they were before - only different.

-S-

Part I: Confessions of a Self-Centered Ace Reporter

Chapter 2: The Man of Steel

-S-

Something is wrong with Lois. Clark notices it as soon as he returns from Krypton. He doesn't know what's bothering her, but he can tell something isn't right.

He wonders: Who is this bland woman talking to her fiancé? Where is the Lois that Clark knew? The one who always had that spark in her eye, that fire in her soul? Why does he only see that verve when she looks at her son? Where is the passion she used to be made of?

He wonders if it is his fault.

--

Clark made a lot of mistakes the first time around. He knows it. In fact, he can remember every moment of every mistake it with excruciating clarity. He can't stop thinking about how badly he messed things up.

The guilt that follows him is constant and heavy. It weighs on his shoulders, more oppressive than the mountain of kryptonite he lifted into the sky. It reminds him that he has failed her. Failed her - and his son - in the most grievous way possible.

When he reads the article, listens to her rant in front of the Planet, talks to her on the roof, he starts to understand.

She said, "How could you just leave us like that?"

He heard, "How could you just leave _me_ like that?"

--

There things about the human race he does not understand, but he does understand Lois. He gets her. He gets her in a way she's never really gotten him.

Clark can't believe the rush of emotions he feels when he finds out that Lois has spent five years crying on the floor of the women's room without telling anyone. He's furious with Richard for not noticing.

He's furious at himself for just walking away when she needed him most.

He begins to realize that he didn't just hurt her when he left, he broke her. The guilt crushes even more.

--

There is only one thing to do when the guilt becomes too much. Clark goes home to Smallville.

--

"Ma, I'm not sure what to do," Clark says to his mother around another bite of cherry crumble. It is a Saturday and he has flown in to see her. He feels he has a lot of time to make up for after leaving her. His recent encounter with his own mortality has reminded him that, though she sometimes seems immortal, constant as the northern star, she will not be around forever.

Ma looks up from the pie crust she is rolling but does not stop working as she watches him from across the kitchen table. Her hands are veined and look fragile but Clark knows there is strength there. Those hands have dried his tears and stroked his hair. He has never known a better woman.

"What do you mean, Clark?"

"There's so much history between us; so much bad blood. I'm lying every second we're together." He sighs heavily. "Ma, she doesn't even know who I really am. Sometimes I don't even know who I really am."

His mother shakes the rolling pin at him. "Clark Kent, that is quite enough of that. I did not raise you to be so selfish."

He is genuinely shocked. He doesn't like to toot his own horn, but he is undoubtedly the most selfless person he's ever encountered. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, boy. This is not about you. This is about her. So you need to ignore your petty guilt issues and just be there when she needs a friend."

"But-"

"You were friends first, weren't you? Before all this mess?"

For a second he is silent as he thinks. Then, suddenly, he sees how right she is. Bless this woman. He grins. "Yeah. We were."

"So," says Ma, as if that settles everything. "Be her friend."

Clark thinks he might actually be able to do that.


	3. Part II, Chapter 3: Rooftops

Zen and Reconciliation

Nefertiri's Handmaiden

Disclaimer: One day I will be a famous comic book writer and my name will be on the cover of a comic book. Until then, I don't own anything.

Summary: Superman holds a hand out to her, quirks a grin in her direction. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Note: Part II, Chapter 3 of a multi-parted story following Lois and Clark making their way back to something like they were before - only different.

-S-

Part II: Building Bridges

Chapter 3: Rooftops

-S-

The next time Lois has a panic attack is three weeks after her encounter with Clark in the bathroom. It is a Wednesday. She is lying in her bed, asleep, when the panic pushes in. She wakes abruptly, unable to breathe. She struggles from the bed. Richard stirs but does not wake. Shakily, she stumbles to the bathroom. She closes the bathroom door as softly as she can and collapses to the floor. She cannot breathe. There is too much space. Too much space.

No boundaries. No rules. No control.

A tap on the bathroom window almost makes her scream. Her head whips toward the sound. There, floating outside her bathroom window, is a far too familiar blue and red uniform. It's so ridiculous and out of place that she wants to laugh but she can't.

Using the doorknob as a grip she pulls herself to her feet. She takes a deep breath to steady herself and goes to the window and opens it. He smiles at her awkwardly, the concern in his eyes evident. "Are you okay?"

She doesn't answer his question. "Why are you here?"

"I heard you."

"You heard me? Were you eavesdropping?" She forces the anger to try to hide the embarrassment.

He doesn't seem intimidated, though. Or fooled. Instead, he answers coolly, "I can always hear you. I've heard you before." She does not have an answer to this. _My God, he knows._ She just looks at him. He holds a hand out to her, quirks a grin in her direction. "Do you want to talk about it?"

As always, she can't tell him no. She takes his hand. Gently, he gives her a tug. She climbs through the window and into his arms. She expects him to take them far, far away from the home she shares with another man. He surprises her when he floats them only as far as her roof. He sets her down gently and then sits beside her, drawing his knees up halfway and resting his arms on them. Once they are comfortable, he breaks the silence.

"So. What's up?"

It's so weird to hear him talking like a regular person that she almost laughs. Since he's been back, he's been far away. Aloof. Unlike the man she met all those years ago, catching her mid-fall and sitting in her patio chair. She opens her mouth to respond to his question. She finds she does not have an answer. Instead, she asks a question of her own. "What are you doing here? Really."

He looks down at his boots. It's strange to see him hesitant. "I was talking to my mother."

"Your mother?"

"Yeah. She's a wise woman. She, um, told me that I needed to get over myself and be there for you."

Lois can't help but chuckle. "I'd like to meet your mother someday." As soon as she says it she realizes it's a strange thing to say and she falls silent. Superman chooses not to react and instead refocuses the conversation.

"What's wrong, Lois?" That tone of his is back. The one that is actually genuinely caring. Lois isn't used to hearing it like that. Perry is too gruff, though heart-felt. Richard is too overprotective. Superman just wants to help.

"I don't know." He raises an eyebrow. In that moment, he reminds her of someone but she can't pinpoint who. "Really. I'm not sure. I guess I've been avoiding the problem. Maybe it's just… maybe I just missed you, and now I'm not sure how to go back to the way things were."

"We can't."

"What?"

"We can't go back," he repeats. She stares at him. "We can't go back, Lois. Things are different now. There's Jason. And Richard. I messed up. You moved on. We'll just have to get used to things being different."

Her eyes fill with tears but she refuses to let them fall. "Does that mean…" she clears her throat, "does that mean that you and me…?"

His eyes are gentle, his tone calm. He cups her face in one hand. "Maybe one day. For now, we just need to ride this out."

He is so sure. For the first time in a long time she feels peace in her heart. They share a smile.

He rises to his feet and takes her hand. Silently, he returns her to her bathroom window. When she returns to bed she notices that Richard has not moved since she left him. For the first time she doesn't resent him, even a little, for not being Superman.

--

It is only a few days later that she takes the elevator to the rooftop of the Daily Planet, once again, to wait for him. Up there in the cool, breezy air, she takes a few calming breaths. She only waits a few minutes before he appears, sinking down from the sky like it's the way most people make an entrance.

"Hello, Lois."

"Hi."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, but it's time you and I talked."

He looks confused. "We have talked."

"I mean about Jason."

His face changes completely. "Oh." She wants to start, opens her mouth to let him know that he's always welcome when he cuts her off. "If I had known, I would never have left. I just need you to know that."

She looks at him quizzically. "I do know that. Even with… even with everything, I know you. And I know that you would never abandon your son."

He says something quietly that she can't hear, but it doesn't matter because he's then moving on. "Well, I want to be there now. I can't make up for the time I've missed and I can't be the father that Richard is to him, but I want to be there."

"I know you do. And you're welcome. But… I'm going to have to speak with Richard about it."

His eyebrows rise. "You haven't told him?"

Her eyes fall to the concrete beneath her Prada shoes. "No."

When he speaks again, he doesn't sound angry or even judgmental. "Ah. So that's why we haven't spoken."

"You want to speak with him?"

He meets and holds her gaze. "We need to. I owe him so much and he has every right to hate me."

"He doesn't hate you."

"No," agrees Superman thoughtfully. "I don't believe he does. You picked a rare person, Lois," he says with a sort of sad smile.

She smiles sadly, too, but it's because of what they lost and not because of the man she chose. "Yeah. I know." Her eyes are content and he can't help but feel a little bit jealous.


	4. Pat II, Chapter 4: Fathers

Zen and Reconciliation

Nefertiri's Handmaiden

Disclaimer: I don't own Superman, and I'm too lazy to come up with a disclaimer more flashy than that.

Summary: The first time Superman actually had a real conversation with Richard White outside of "Do you have them?" and "She'll be fine" was through the second-story window of the house he shared with Lois.

Note: Part II, Chapter 4 of a multi-parted story following Lois and Clark making their way back to something like they were before - only different.

-S-

Part II: Building Bridges

Chapter 4: Fathers

-S-

The first time Superman actually had a real conversation with Richard White outside of "Do you have them?" and "She'll be fine" was through the second-story window of the house he shared with Lois.

Richard opened the window to his study at about six o'clock in the evening, even though it was freezing outside. Hopefully, Superman could take a hint. At nine-thirty, Richard was still sitting his leather armchair, staring at a novel, waiting. He hadn't flipped the page in about forty-five minutes and his tired eyes saw the words on the page as out of focus and blurry. Then there was a tap at the window frame. His eyes snapped up. There, framed by the curtains Lois had picked out, floated a man in a red cape. Richard took a deep breath and stood.

"Hello," he said.

"Hello," responded Superman, waiting for Richard to make the first move. Richard wasn't sure if this was polite or strategic.

"Lois told me."

Superman inclined his head. "She told me she would. Before you say anything, I want to thank you for being there when I wasn't. I recognize that your right to Jason exceeds mine. You are his father in a way I can never hope to be, and that's my own fault. I can only hope you'll give me the chance to be there for him now."

Richard blinked in surprise. "Well. I hadn't expected you to be quite so understanding."

Superman smiled. "I was raised by a man other than my biological father."

"You were?"

"My biological father died when Krypton did. I was raised by a human man. He was the best man I have ever known."

"Well… I had this whole angry speech ready. I - uh - guess it's not really necessary, now."

Superman grinned again. "If it would make you feel better to give it, I'm sure I probably deserve it."

Richard cocked his head thoughtfully. "You aren't nearly as stuck-up as I thought you would be."

"Well," said Superman seriously. "I messed up. I can't deny it."

Richard didn't know what to say to that.

Suddenly, Superman's head cranked to the right, and he looked out toward the city. "If that's all, I kind of need to…"

"Oh, please," said Richard. "Go do what you need to do."

Superman nodded. "We'll speak again soon." And then, with a whoosh, he was gone. Richard sank back down into his chair and looked out the window.

--

A week and a half later, Clark gently pulled his son's window open. Jason was snug in his bed, carefully tucked in. Clark wondered if it had been Richard or Lois who'd made sure his son's covers were warm around him. He felt a rush of jealousy and a pang of want. There was nothing he wanted more than to be the one to tuck Jason in at night.

But he'd lost that right when he'd run away to Krypton to escape the pain of losing Lois again. That had been weak, he realized now. It had been cowardly. It would have shamed his father - both of his fathers.

He smoothed back his son's hair and then stepped back into the shadow of the wall to watch his little boy sleep, a small smile playing across his chiseled features. This was a kind of love he'd never known before. This tie with his son - it couldn't be broken. Their blood was the same. No one - not even Richard - could change the fact that this little boy existed because of Clark.

There was a flood of light across Jason's bed from the hall as the door to his room opened. Clark didn't move. Richard stepped into the room, closing the door behind him most of the way. He stepped up to the bed and adjusted Jason's covers. Clark watched without speaking. When Richard turned to leave, he caught sight of the man in the shadows, and stilled a moment before he realized who it was. Then a look of understanding crossed his features. Clark inclined his head. Richard motioned to the hall and Clark followed him out.

Gently, he closed Jason's door behind him and turned to face Richard. The other man had his arms crossed over his chest and a serious expression on his face. In that moment, he reminded Clark of someone, but Clark couldn't pinpoint who.

"You come here often?" asked Richard, speaking softly enough that Lois, downstairs in the kitchen, couldn't hear him.

Clark responded just as quietly. "Once in a while, when I have the chance."

Richard jerked his head to indicate Clark should follow him and the two men moved softly down the carpeted hallway to Richard's study. Richard seated himself in a large leather chair, leaving Clark standing awkwardly. "Please, sit down," said Richard, motioning to another chair. Clark sat, aware of how utterly incongruous he looked, red cape and blue tights in the neutral tones of Richard's study. The big red 'S' looked good from the sky, but it was pretty silly here.

Richard leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees. "What is it exactly you want?" he asked, more harsh than when he'd spoken to Clark the last time.

Clark was silent. He had an answer, but he wasn't sure if it was the one he should be giving Richard. When he responded, it wasn't a lie, but it also wasn't the whole truth. "It's not about what I want. It's about what's right."

Richard sat back with a huff. "I wish you were easier to hate. I would be within my rights to kick your ass if you were any other guy. But you're Superman. How can I hate Superman?"

Clark thought for a moment and then answered. "At least that's good for Jason."

Richard stared and then started laughing. "That's exactly what I mean." Clark couldn't think of anything to say. So he didn't say anything. When Richard stopped laughing, he stared at Clark. Clark stared back, trying to read Richard. Then Richard sighed and brought a hand to his temple. "I'm always going to be second best, aren't I?"

"Lois made her choice. I'm just the guy in the shadows."

Richard snorted derisively. "The red cape isn't so productive to blending in."

"She picked you."

Richard sighed again. "For now."

Clark leaned forward. "I just want a chance to know Jason. I'm not going to try to get in the way. Lois moved on."

Richard's were sad and wise when he looked at Clark. "No, she hasn't."

Clark didn't dare to hope.


	5. Part III, Chapter 5: Waiting

Zen and Reconciliation

Nefertiri's Handmaiden

Disclaimer: I don't own Superman, and I'm too lazy to come up with a disclaimer more flashy than that.

Summary: Lois waits on the roof of the Daily Planet. It seems like she's spent her whole life waiting on this roof.

Note: Part III, Chapter 5 of a multi-parted story following Lois and Clark making their way back to something like they were before - only different.

-S-

Part III: Yesterday and Tomorrow

Chapter 5: Waiting

-S-

METROPOLIS. FIVE YEARS AGO.

Lois waited on her balcony. It seemed she'd spent her whole life waiting on balconies. She flopped down into an uncomfortable but stylish patio chair. Always waiting on the balcony. But she never resented him for it. Because she knew he'd be here.

Restlessly, she stood again. Then there was a _whoosh_ and a rush of wind and the light _thud_ of red boots touching down on the cement ledge around her balcony. "Good evening, Miss Lane," came a familiar voice. She smiled and turned to meet bright blue eyes and jet black hair. But his normally sparkling eyes were dull.

"Hi," she said softly, suddenly concerned. She took a few steps toward him. He didn't move. "What's wrong?" she asked.

He jumped down from the ledge and looked at her, his expression uncharacteristically inscrutable. "A lot of things. And nothing."

She moved closer to him, standing near enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Superman, what-"

For the first time since she met him, he was abrupt with her. "Did you want something in particular, Miss Lane?"

She stared at him. "No, it's just that I-"

"Then I should go." He levitated a few feet off the ground.

She hurried to catch his hand. "Wait, I-"

He looked down at her, a pained expression on his face. "I can't, Lois. I want to, but I can't."

"What are you talking about?"

"Goodbye, Lois." He pulled his hand from her grasp and then he was gone.

The next evening, when she waited on her balcony, he never came.

--

METROPOLIS. TODAY.

Lois waits on the roof of the Daily Planet. It seems like she's spent her whole life waiting on this roof. Uneasily, she paces, fiddling with a pack of cigarettes she wants open but has promised herself that she won't. Some nights, he never comes. Most nights, he shows up, even if it was only for a moment.

There is a _whoosh_ and a rush of wind and the light _thud_ of red boots touching down on the cement ledge around the roof. "Good evening, Miss Lane."

Déjà vu. Nothing ever changes, and it's stupid to think that it will.

But then, nothing ever stays the same, does it?

"Hi," she says, turning to face him.

"What's on your mind?" he asks, trying, as he promised he would, to be her friend.

Lois thinks of that last time she saw him before he left. She remembers the way she'd had no idea that in twenty-four hours, he'd be gone. Suddenly, the world had seemed like it didn't make sense. She'd cried for crying at night on her balcony, feeling something different growing in her and wanting him furiously. And he hadn't come.

"I- I-" And she starts hyperventilating. Her body folds in on itself and she almost falls to her knees.

"Lois," he says, suddenly by her side. He pulls her body upright gently by the shoulders. "Give your lungs some room to move. Breathe slow. Focus on your breathing. In, out, in, out."

Carefully, she follows his instructions. The warm weight of his hand on her back is comforting. It gives the world a boundary. It grounds her. In a few moments, faster then ever before, the panic fades. She looks up at him as her breathing returns to normal, her eyes red and puffy with involuntary tears caused by the lack of oxygen. She knows she must look so stupid, but he's looking at her. He's looking at her like he always looked at her. And the world makes sense when he looks at her like that.

He is so close. The heat from his body warms her. She raises herself up on her toes, presses her chest against him, grips one of his biceps. He's only one breath away. The world could be right again. Her eyes slip shut and she can feel the world narrowing to him.

He steps away.

Her eyes snap open and she stares in shock. Her breathing starts to stutter again with rejection. In all the time she's known him, he's never stepped away.

It is then she realized he's talking, staring at his boots and babbling in a very un-Superman-like way.

"I can't do it this way, Lois. I won't. You- You chose somebody else. This isn't really what you need anyway and you're just scared and I'm here and-" He stops, takes a deep breath and composes himself. "I'll always love you, Lois," he says, suddenly meeting her eyes again. "I'll always want you. But I'm not going to mess this up again."

She blinks at him. "You- you and I-"

He turns away. She can't see his face, but his shoulders are weak and slumped. "You're engaged, Lois. I won't be the other man, and I won't make you the unfaithful woman."

She takes a step forward. "Superman-"

"Goodnight, Lois." He takes off. She watches him go until long after he's out of her sight. It's a long time before she realizes she's crying.


	6. Part III, Chapter 6: Reality

Zen and Reconciliation

Nefertiri's Handmaiden

Disclaimer: I don't own Superman, and I'm too lazy to come up with a disclaimer more flashy than that.

Summary: Like he always does when he doesn't know where to go or what to do, Clark goes home. The light in his mother's kitchen is always on.

Note: Part III, Chapter 6 of a multi-parted story following Lois and Clark making their way back to something like they were before - only different.

-S-

Part III: Yesterday and Tomorrow

Chapter 6: Reality

-S-

Clark flies as fast as he can. He hasn't flown so fast in. . . Well, it's been a long time. He rockets. He cuts through the clouds over Prague, coming out wet but going so fast that he's dry in less than a second. In only minutes, he's over China. San Diego, Gotham, the Atlantic.

There was a time as a child when he dreamed of going this fast. He remembers racing a train at 17, feeling the power of his body and the gorgeous warmth of the sun, and thinking that maybe one day he'd go so fast that he'd be able to leave that train far behind him, and million miles in his wake.

Now he's going faster than the speed of sound, a boom rocketing behind him as he kicks up the velocity. Going this fast makes him forget everything but the feel of the wind rushing past him, puling at his hair and making his eyes sting.

But even the speed can't stop him from thinking about Lois, and how close she'd been, and how she'd looked when he'd told her 'no.' He stops abruptly over the Sahara desert and hovers, floats over the windless barren expanse. He wants to go back, fly as fast as he can to her and scoop her in his arms and take her up with him like he used to when they first met. But he can't.

--

Like he always does when he doesn't know where to go or what to do, Clark goes home. The light in his mother's kitchen is always on.

--

Ma makes popcorn this time. Old style, in a pot with corn and oil over the stove. She pours in a little melted butter and shakes salt over it. Then she sits at the table next to her son and places the bowl of fresh popcorn in front of it. Clark doesn't take any. He's staring at his hands, resting on the old wooden table that he once carved his name into. She listens as he speaks, as she has always done.

"I love her and Jason so much, Ma," he says softly.

She hums. "I know you do, Clark. But what you did tonight- you both know it was the right thing."

"That doesn't make it hurt any less."

"You of all people know that doing what's right isn't always what's easy. And what's easiest is rarely what's right."

"Yeah," he sighs. "I know."

Ma watches him without judging, her fingers quick and busy with knitting she's picked up. She doesn't even have to look at what she's doing. Clark watches her hands for a few minutes, remembering when he was a child and used to sit in her lap in the rocking chair and nap while she did this. The steady _click click_ of the needles is still soothing.

"I want to be her husband. I want to cook her dinner because she burns everything she touches. I want to take Jason to the park. I want to teach him how to fly."

Ma's fingers still and he looks up to meet her eyes. "Clark," she says, her voice calming and carrying wisdom and confidence. "I've been around long enough to know that if you do right by the world, things will work out in the end. Give it time. Give yourselves time."

He nods. She stands again and moves next to him. He leans his head against her stomach and she strokes his hair, just like she did when he was a little boy.

--

Jason is happy at dinner. He chatters about school and piano lessons and Billy Newnan on the playground who called him skinny, but it was okay because Jason would rather be skinny that fat like Billy Newnan.

He's been different since the yacht, Lois thinks. Most of the time, he's still the solemn little boy he always was. But he's healthier and sometimes his eyes sparkle in a way Lois never noticed before. She chooses not to think about why, though she knows she'll have to confront it soon.

Lois sits next to Richard, quieter than usual, listening to her son and loving him so much that tears come to her eyes. If Richard notices, he says nothing.

After dinner, before she tucks him in, Jason hands her a picture he drew. "Look, Mommy," he says, smiling.

She gazes at the picture. "Where's your daddy?" she asks, because Jason usually draws his whole family, which usually includes Superman.

"This one is just me and you," he says. Jason looks up at her, the kind of adoration in his eyes that he sometimes gets. She looks back the same way. Then she opens her arms to him. He comes willingly, snuggling into her. She strokes his soft brown hair.

Just her and Jason.

--

Once Jason is safe in bed and asleep, Lois stands in front of her bathroom sink, staring at herself in the mirror. She looks the same as she did five years ago, she thinks. Sure, there's a bit more weight on her hips from when she carried Jason and maybe she's got a few more crow's feet around her eyes, but for the most part she's the same. But when she looks in the mirror, she's not sure where Lois Lane is.

The panic comes again. She gasps for breath, her fingers clutching at the porcelain edges of the sink even as her knees give out beneath her and she sinks to the floor. Her knuckles are white and her knees are cold against the tile through the satin of her pajama pants. She's trying as hard as she can, but she can't gain control.

Superman was right. Lois knows it.

And then Richard's behind her, saying her name and trying to pull her into an upright sitting position. "Lois, Lois," he's saying. "What's wrong? Where are you hurt?" She wonders how he saw her before she remembers that the bathroom door wasn't closed. Then she's leaning back against the wall, sobbing and hyperventilating and trying to catch a hold of herself while Richard watches her anxiously, crouched down in front of her.

It's a long time before she regains her composure. Even when her breathing eases, she's sniffling and there's tears all over her face and her hair is caught to her wet cheek. Richard clutches at one of her calves, stretched out in front of her. "Dear Lord, Lois. What the hell was that?"

She takes three deep breaths, trying to stop the tears. Then she looks up and meets Richard's eye. And he's worried about her and he loves her and her heart aches with guilt and regret because she's been lying to him for five years.

She says brokenly, her voice husky from tears, "Richard, we need to talk."

There's a flash of understanding in his eyes, sad and complete, and she remembers why she chose him as a substitute for the man she couldn't have. He sits back against the wall opposite her heavily and stares. "Yeah," he responds. "I think we do."


	7. Part IV, Chapter 7: Serenity

Zen and Reconciliation

Nefertiri's Handmaiden

Disclaimer: I don't own Superman, and I'm too lazy to come up with a disclaimer more flashy than that.

Summary: Lois thinks back over the events of the last twenty-four hours and waits for the panic to come. But it doesn't.

Note: Part IV, Chapter 7 of a multi-parted story following Lois and Clark making their way back to something like they were before - only different.

-S-

Part IV: Serenity

Chapter 7: A Breath of Fresh Air

-S-

When Lois exits through the heavy metal door onto the roof, someone's already there. It takes her a second too realize that the man sitting on the ledge with his feet hanging over the outside is Clark. For a second, she's terrified. His posture is strange, but he doesn't seem tense.

"Clark?" she asks softly.

He turns his head to look at her and smiles. "Hi, Lois."

She asks tentatively, "Are you. . . okay?"

"What? Oh, sure. I'm not planning on jumping or anything. Just came up here to clear my head."

She nears him, sits on the ledge next to him, keeping her own legs safely on the inside of the ledge. "I know the feeling."

They sit in a companionable silence for a little while, shoulder to shoulder, facing opposite directions. Clark stares out over the city, wide and alive, glass windows of skyscrapers glinting in the afternoon sun. Lois stares at her shoes, black leather with a satin ribbon tied in down the front and into a bow. She thinks back over the events of the last twenty-four hours and waits for the panic to come. But it doesn't.

Downstairs, they are bustling to put out a newspaper and walking on eggshells around her, thinking the breakup with Richard has made her volatile.

But it's peaceful here. Gently, she lays her head on Clarks shoulder and feels his head shift to look down at her and then back toward the city. "I missed you when you were gone," she admits softly. "I forgot how good it is to have you around."

She feels rather than hears him take a deep breath in and exhale. "I missed you, too, Lois. Very much," he responds. He rests his head gently atop hers for a moment before he speaks again. His voice is quiet. "I heard," he says. "About you and Richard."

"Hmm," she hums noncommittally.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

She lifts her head from his shoulder and shifts her body sideways so she can look out over the city with him, one knee now bent and resting on the ledge, the other hanging over the inside. She stares out over Metropolis, the city she has loved for so long. It's gorgeous, she thinks. She'd forgotten, somehow, how beautiful it is, why they call it the City of Tomorrow. Now she remembers.

At five o'clock, she'll pick up Jason from his after-school program. The two of them will go back to a small rented apartment she secured for them yesterday and eat takeout. She'll make sure he eats his snow peas and brushes his teeth. She'll tuck him into a small twin bed she bought for cheap somewhere. She will spend the night alone for only the second time in many years. The prospect of doing it by herself isn't as scary as she thought it would be. Maybe because she knows she's not actually alone.

She takes a deep breath and exhales, feels the world bright and beautiful and serene around her. She looks at the Clark for a moment, his gentle face and mild expression. Then she gazes out at the city. She looks for a flash of blue and red, but there's none visible. He's out there somewhere, anyway, she knows.

She realizes Clark's been watching her quietly, Clark-like concern in his eyes, waiting for her to answer. It reminds her why they were such good friends before he left. She smiles at him.

"You know," she says, "I think that for the first time in a long time, I really am."

-fin-


End file.
